A Dance With Demons

Part 1: Mystery and Misery

This morning is no different from the rest. I am up early in this same musty bed and a sorry excuse for a house. This room smells of rotting food and sadness. I wish I could just lay here another day, but it's time to get up, considering that I've laid here for the past three hours trying to decide the best way to finally end my life and I must get ready for work. I don't know how I will do it, but when I finally decide on the method I promise the next morning will be smoother. Every time I seem to come close to a decision, I change my mind at the last-minute because it doesn't seem like the perfect way to do it.

After 20 minutes of lying around I finally decide to make my way to the bathroom. Halfway there I felt a sharp pain in my foot from stepping on a thumb tack that seemed to have fallen on the floor, or should I say thrown on the floor during one of my angry fits that consisted of knocking everything off the walls and shelves onto the floor. I've been here about 3 years, and this place doesn't even look remotely the way it did when I first arrived, and I am to blame. What does it matter anyway? I won't be here for long, it's a problem for the next person to deal with I guess. When I picked up my foot to pull the slightly rusted pin from my foot I realized it wasn't the lone object attached to my foot. The pain from pulling the pin from my foot didn't even compare to what I felt when looking at one of the reasons I no longer feel the need to be in this world anymore. It's a photo of me, him, and my stupid excuse of a sister taken during our trip to Disney World.

Events from that weekend play over and over in my head, I can't believe I was so naïve. I should have known something was going on when he claimed to have won 3 tickets at work and convinced me to invite my sister to come along, despite my wishes for it to be just us. To top it off I don't remember seeing the credit card report from that month.

I should've listened to my first thought when he said he was going to meet an old friend from school and my stupid sister saying she was going to bed early when I asked her to come out with me. Something always seemed off about the way they spoke and looked at each other, I guess I was too dumb to say anything about it.

I don't even attempt to keep tears from welling up in my eyes anymore; after 6 months I to have lost the interest to do so. Regardless, let the tears keep coming, at least they come when I need them.

For the next 10 minutes I cried in the mirror. Looking at another pathetic me with matching tears in her eyes, disregarding the pain I feel in my foot. I should probably cover my wound with something, but maybe an infection wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me lately. I welcome the idea of feeling something different than I'm used to.

Then, my phone rings. It's an unknown number, which I refuse to answer. I can't even get people who claim to care about me to answer my calls or even call me back; an unknown number is obviously somebody who doesn't care and I don't need any more of those people. Plus, I notice the time and I should make my way to the bus for work.

Until I figure out how I am going to put an end to my shitty life, I should at least keep my job so that I can make sure I keep my utilities on. I rush out the house without cleaning up, grab my phone, and head out the door.

It's 87 degrees outside today, clear skies, birds chirping, and all the good stuff that signals a perfect day. During my walk to the bus stop, I even pass children and parents playing outside without a care in the world. I miss the days when I could sit back and enjoy the simple things in life.

That picture is burned into my thoughts and the thoughts won't stop. After a while, I realize that this is the first time I have left my house in 3 days, and if it wasn't for work I would've stayed in for another day. I probably wouldn't have found the picture because I would've still been laying there. Maybe I should just quit my job, then I would have no real reason to leave. Well, then I'd go broke, and would eventually become homeless. With being homeless comes more problems than I'd like. I guess I'll keep my job.

At the bus stop I notice somebody I've never seen there before, or maybe he's always been at this stop and I just never paid too much attention before. But today, I can't help but notice him.

No, i'm sure I have never seen this guy before, but I keep catching him staring at me from the other side of the bench as if he's seen me before. He is dressed in an all-black button up and some black fitted jeans, he has beautiful brown eyes and black perfectly groomed hair. I'm usually not into white guys, but things were different he'd definitely make the cut. 

What could a guy like him possibly want? I am sure the reason he is staring has nothing to do with my looks, but rather the tears I haven't bothered to wipe away. If he is feeling any concern for me right now, he hasn't bothered to say anything to reassure me that he does.

At this moment I feel more than sorrow accompanied by embarrassment. I usually keep my tears hidden from the public but now i'm at a bus stop with tears running down my face and somebody is staring at me. I need to get myself together. 

Maybe in another lifetime I would be excited to be in the presence of somebody like him, but in this moment I can't focus on him and I'm sure he wants nothing to do with a broken girl like me. If I would've never stepped on that pin this morning, today would've been like any other shitty day. But this is the lowest I have felt all week, or all year for that matter.

Fuck it! Who cares if the way I end it isn't perfect, afterwards it won't matter anyway. I fix my eyes on the large commercial truck going faster than normal on the street in front of me. It couldn't have more perfect timing, considering it's the only vehicle coming this way. Whoever this mystery man is, he better shut his eyes, because what's about to happen will surely ruin his morning. 

As the truck gets closer, I get up, causing something to fall from my pocket, and I prepare to end it all. The truck is large enough and I'm sure my death won't cause any extra casualties. As I get closer to the curb and the sound of the truck gets louder, I close my eyes and step off the curb into the first lane. Last I checked, the truck was in the middle lane, so I figured I have a few steps before I am in place. 

With each step I become more at peace with my decision. With each second the truck gets louder; it's getting closer. If I am going to change my mind. I'm sure I am almost in the middle lane because the truck begins to honk its horn to warn me of my impending doom. It's getting closer, I feel the first sign of relief come.

This is it, no turning back now.

Just when it sounds like the truck is almost here to take me away, somebody grabs my shoulder and I open my eyes to see I've stopped just short of the middle lane.

"Anya, before you take that step, can I ask you to reconsider? I don't think it's your time." said the voice.

The wind from the truck passing so close is strong. The relief fades and is replaced by the sadness along with greater embarrassment, and now it's all accompanied by a new feeling: confusion.

How does he know my name?

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